Sarah Pinborough - Into the Silence

Feeling the numbness that had been rattled into the base of her spine since the early morning, Hannah decided that her hand was attached to the right body. A body that was getting old and couldn't deny it any longer. Her stare intensified into a glare as the choir and its director moved into a silent stand-off. It had been a fairly long journey in a very old minibus with only a tired fan heater on the dashboard to keep them warm, and none of their joints were as young or flexible as they used to be. Even Alice Jones, who was a mere slip of a thing at only 45, had complained of a sore back when they'd finally climbed out at the hotel.

And the hotel was another story in itself. After deciding to give the competition a whirl, admittedly at Annaliese's insistence, and having surprised themselves by getting through the regional heats, they had been very pleased with themselves when they had booked their accommodation early. No one would be able to say the Women's Institute was disorganised and left with nowhere to stay, not like some of the larger choirs in the competition whose members had ended up scattered far and wide in hotels and bed and breakfasts across the city because they'd left their bookings too late.

However, as they'd gathered in the tatty and cramped reception area, it had become all too apparent that the Melrose Hotel didn't live up to the photos and description on its website. Hannah's teeth clenched tighter, straining her jaw, which wouldn't be good for her singing, but she couldn't help that. The hotel had failed to mention in their advertising that they had no lift, that all ten of the ladies' twin rooms were up on the fourth floor, and that the stairs were steep and uneven to say the least. Some doctors might encourage old women to spend their days dragging themselves up and down flights of steep and uneven stairs for no good reason other than their health but, as far as 62-year-old Hannah Lafferty was concerned, those doctors were daft. Old age was all about taking it easy and eating what you wanted. If it had been up to her, they'd have complained to the manager, but it seemed the rest of the group didn't want to cause a fuss and so she had gone along with it.

Staring now at Annaliese George and her chignon hair and perfect make-up, Hannah decided this was one time she was going to take a stand.

'What exactly do you mean you want us to move all the chairs?' Her voice a soft growl, she felt very tempted to point out that Annaliese was quite new to the organisation and should really stop trying to boss them around. She was their musical director; she could boss them around when they were singing. That was about it.

'They'll interfere with the acoustics.' Annaliese's clipped tones reeked of Surrey, and Hannah wished, not for the first time, that the woman would just move back there.

Enid Evans timidly stepped up, unwinding a scarf from around her neck. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. 'But there must be at least a hundred or more of them.'

'Keep that scarf on, Enid!' Annaliese tutted. 'You need to protect your voice.'

'Well, folding up and stacking all those chairs is hardly going to help our singing voices, is it?' Alice's voice rose from somewhere towards the back of the group, and Hannah smiled. The choir had no chance of winning anything in the competition, they had no illusions about that, but they did have Alice Jones and her beautiful soprano. Some of the others might not want to admit it, but it was Alice who lifted them out of the ordinary and into something more than that.

' You don't have to move them, Alice.' Annaliese obviously knew it too. 'You could just make sure that everyone has a bottle of water to sip by their place.'

A murmur of discontent rustled along the line, and Hannah raised an eyebrow. 'We don't have any stars in the choir, Annaliese.'

'No we don't,' added Alice.

Hannah stared at the rows of chairs that stretched towards the gloomy rear of the Llandaff community centre, and then checked her watch. 'Look ladies, we've only got the hall for an hour and a half. It's six o'clock now. If we move all those chairs it'll just waste rehearsal time. We can work around the acoustics. Let's just get on with singing.'

The rustle of discontent translated into murmurs of assent and, knowing when she'd lost, Annaliese clapped her hands together and turned her back on the uniform chairs. 'Let's get to your places and ready to start. Form your lines.' With a nod and a raised eyebrow she organised the choir into a presentable semi-circle of three rows. 'And remember ladies, never sing louder than lovely!'

Half an hour later and they were in full voice, belting out their arrangement of 'How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?' It had been Annaliese's choice and, although Hannah had hated it at first, she had to admit that it worked for them. They were women of the right age and could have fun with it, without making it sound twee. As much as Annaliese George irritated her as a person, she was definitely a talented musical director.

Despite the chill that hovered under the high ceilings of the practical seventies hall, Hannah's face was warm as her breath moved in a steady flow, pushing out her sections of the song, and she relaxed into the enjoyment of being part of the wave of sound created by her friends around her. She looked down at Annaliese, her stout but elegant form standing about two rows back into the empty audience seating, the top of her hair lost and absorbed into the dusky darkness of the rear of the centre.

Hannah tried not to smile, knowing that their musical director would pick it up immediately. Annaliese had insisted they leave the back lights off in order to create a theatre atmosphere since the chairs were already laid out. She said it would help them with their stage fright. Hannah thought they could turn out all the lights and she'd still have a hard time imagining she was on the stage of the Millennium Centre. Her stomach knotted for a second with a fizz of excitement. It was hard to believe they'd really made it this far.

Alice's voice cut through the air with the purity of a diamond through ice, and Hannah paused for breath, just relishing the exquisiteness of it. For a brief second though, something discordant interrupted it. Tilting her head, she peered at Annaliese, thinking she may have dropped a glass or bottle, but the conductor was smiling as she waved her arms and counted the next part in. That was strange. She was sure the sound had come from somewhere towards the back of the hall. Maybe she'd just imagined it. Taking a deep breath to come in with her section of altos, she stopped midway as Alice lost her note, veering into a bad sharp.

Annaliese rapped her baton harshly on the metal chair beside her, bringing the choir to an abrupt silence. She flashed an angry glare at Alice. 'What on Earth was that? You sounded like a cat that's been run over and left for dead.' Her mouth tightened into a thin line, all her hidden years apparent in the sudden crinkles around her lips. 'We can't have that so close to the finals. We're going to be on television, Alice. We're representing Women's Institute branches all over the country.'

Alice lifted her shoulders helplessly. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I just felt…' She hesitated. 'I just felt a little strange for a moment.'

Hannah looked across at her younger friend. She was pale and trembling slightly. That didn't look like 'strange' to Hannah. That looked like fear. What could have shaken her like that?

'Maybe we should take a short break,' she said softly. 'I could use a quick drink of water.'

It was only when they were wearily leaving an hour later, that Enid spotted the pane of broken glass in the window beside the door. The group huddled round it.

'Was that here when we arrived?' Hannah stared at it. 'I thought I heard something breaking. Just before Alice lost that note. Must have been kids mucking around.'